


It was over way before it started

by NoxCounterspell



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Break Up, F/F, Feels, Lesbian AU, POV Second Person, Sad Ending, tw panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 06:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15528255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxCounterspell/pseuds/NoxCounterspell
Summary: You look nothing like Garbo or Crawford, and you curse every movie for telling the story wrong.Heartbreak, it really isn’t as stylish as in movies.





	It was over way before it started

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on tumblr a little while ago, and I thought I might post it here as well.  
> For anyone interested, She is a lot of trouble and a Louboutin bag is on the works, however I'm finishing my dissertation, so it might take a while for me to go back to that fic.
> 
> Another note: Texts in italics are flashbacks.

Smoking has never been your thing. You’re voice is already raspy and husky, no need for the extra strain on your vocal chords, plus you are just the alcoholic chick, the woman who can out drink a guy in a blink of an eye. Booze, however, wasn’t just cutting it today and every damn movie on the book always have this scene in which a depressed stranger is smoking a cigarette under the rain. Looking incredibly sad, yet perfectly upheld and tidy.

_Like depression could look that good._

You are sobbing  _hard_  against Adore’s chest, the younger woman trying to calm you down. You’re soaked all the way from your head to your toes, as you stormed out of the club without even thinking about it. Your hair is all tangled, your make up a mess, black eyeliner and shadow smeared all over your cheeks, a combo of tears and rain drops being just about enough to take down your signature smoky eyes.

The cigarette in your hand is probably the twentieth (could someone smoke that much at their first time?), count lost too long ago to even matter.

You look nothing like Garbo or Crawford, and you curse every movie for telling the story wrong.

 _Heartbreak_ , it isn’t really as stylish as in movies.

_

 

_“Bianca, she’s seeing someone else. She’s- she is going serious with a guy…”_

___

“Umm, Natalie? Sorry, but this is wrong. She ordered this without salad. She does not eat celery. You’ll have to take it back.”

Of course.

_Is not even been a week, bitch._

This idea was stupid from the very beginning. But you have never been able to say no to baby Jesus blue eyes and Adore managed to convince you to come to this restaurant. To get your order wrong. And to Courtney to step in in your defense.

You don’t get the chance to wrinkle your nose, to make a face or to nudge your plate away in disgust. She already said everything that is running through your mind. A bolt of electricity menaces to make you jump out of your seat and leave, not minding how perplex your friends would be. Your eyes start trying to find something to focus on, feeling a little stingy already. Unfortunately, nothing goes as you want, and they land on green irises staring right at you.

Her wide, frightened eyes tell you she felt it as well.

Courtney knows. She fucking knows she went further of what she’s allowed now. She’s not supposed to jump into your matters. _Not anymore._

Everyone on the table is quiet. Latrice is starting to move her chair closer to you, and Willam’s eyes dance between you and the blonde right on the opposite side of the table. Adore’s mild panic is every confirmation you need to know this was, indeed, a really bad idea. It’s Adore’s fault, you think, Adore's stupid, childish mind thinking you can coexist with Courtney after everything that happened, that you can get along, because Adore's wants you too. That she is the best friend the both of you had. That she can fix you by forcing you to sit face to face to Courtney. Just because she saw you fall apart.

As Latrice is about to say something, you take the plate off the waitress’s hands and slide it closer to you. The waitress, Natalie, is just as lost as everybody else, but for completely different reasons. For the first time in your life, you say this is fine, this is just a simple mistake and that you would just move the horrible, _horrible_ salad aside. Adore’s mouth hangs open. For the amount of money you’ll end up paying for your meal and your mood lately, you would have sent the girl back to the kitchen, with an earful of complaints of her not doing her job as she should. _Thank you for not paying attention, cunt!_

Today, you stay calm and collected, you take your fork on your right hand and you set your eyes on the blonde woman that’s looking at you as shocked as you have ever seen her. You take a bite, sealing the deal, and even though this is stupid, you feel like you have won something. You just prove her wrong. She doesn’t know you that much. You’ve changed. In so little time you are not the person she knew anymore. You won this battle, and you are willing to do anything just to remark so.

Alaska gives you a side glance, and you are not sure is she is giving you approval or just quite the opposite.

_But you don’t care._

It’s cognitive dissonance, according to the psychology book underneath your pillow. You both hate her and ~~love~~ miss her, and by holding both of those ideas together you are trying to create a new _you_ . A _weird, unstable, crankier_ version of you, but you all the same. A _you_ that holds a _grudge_ , a deep-heart-wrenching grudge, but has an impeccable exterior that shows that everything is cool now.

It’s just a coping mechanism.

You know everyone is worried, about what just happened, about what happened just a few days ago. They are expecting for something (someone, you) to explode, so you crack one of your horrible, dark jokes including starving kids, world hunger and celery salads and you get everyone laughing, Latrice punches you on the side, Jinkx chokes on her food. _Ta da!_ Everything is forgotten, and everybody thinks you are ok again.

You are Bianca Del Fucking Rio. You're always ok.

Courtney is the only one not laughing. Not even a faint smile on her face. You look directly on her direction, fake chuckles down on your throat, taking another bite of your horrible side salad. As if you can score another winning point.

But you are sure she can X-ray read you, and she feels as bad as you.

_

“I told her this was going to happen. That it would end up bad.”

You sip your coffee lazily, an nonchalant facade on point, from your stylish updo to your perfect outfit. Alaska asked you to join her on a café, right in the middle of the afternoon a week later from Adore’s dinner party. It was bound to happen, but you were actually surprised it took this long.

Alaska takes a bite from her cheesecake, shrugging a bit.

“You don’t know how many times I have talked to her about the whole thing. I’m starting to think she really is as dumb as she looks. It’s like talking to a kid.”

You remain silent.

“Look B, what she did, it was wrong. It was very shitty of her. I told her so, and she knows it. She knows it, dammit. And she is sorry about it. She is _so_ sorry about everything.”

“I can’t do shit with an _I’m sorry_ , Alaska”, you blurt out, for the first time since Alaska started explaining the real reason behind your get together. Alaska flinches, and you bite your tongue.

“I know”, Alaska says, her shoulders dropping a bit, “It’s just that, I thought you should hear it. Look, I’ve known her for a while now and she is not the best to face the shit she does. She is used to let people handle her mistakes-”

“Like you are doing now?”

You cross your arms over your chest, cocking an eyebrow.

“B, I-”

“Alaska, it was nice of you of telling me her side of her story. For that, I’m grateful. But I can still do nothing with it. Not when is you who’s making up the excuses. For her. _Again_. You think I don’t know her? That I don’t know how she makes everyone take the hit so she doesn’t have to sweat it? You don’t know how many times I had put my neck on the line for her. The least she could do is to say she’s sorry to my face.”

Your nails are digging on your forearms, and there are a couple of tiny drops of blood blossoming from your skin. Your chest is heaving, and you can notice by your friend’s face that your tone wasn’t as moderate as you thought it was. You sank back on your booth (you are on the edge of it) and fix your eyes on the cup of coffee on the table.

“I told her to do whatever she wanted.” You keep going, when you can regain control of yourself.

“Huh?”

“I told her to do whatever she wanted. When I- when I told her how I really felt, about her, about us, I told her she didn’t have to return my feelings. That she was free to feel and do whatever she wanted. She had just broken up with Daniel, and well, there was the fact that she had never dated… _a woman_ … before. So I told her to take all the time she needed. To do whatever she needed to do. To sort out her thoughts. Whatever she needed before we could start something.”

Alaska remains quite, and you feel like you are talking to yourself, repeating the same lines you hear every night when you sleep.

“I just asked her to be honest. That was it. To tell me what was really happening, what was really going on. After all, she was my friend before anything.”

You raise your eyes, and find your friend’s eyes full of sorrow.

“That’s really what angers me the most. She was my friend, and she lied to me. She played me. Even though she knew I didn’t do feelings and relationships, she dragged me into believing we could do it. That I could do it. She played me like a flute. And left. Not even minding to explain. And she can’t even say she is sorry. So, I guess… I wasn’t really that important to her after all.”

Before she can say something, you throw a twenty on the table and leave. You’ve said too much to Alaska. You can’t stand to see pity in her eyes, nor she trying to make anymore excuses for Courtney.

After all, it’s not like you are ever gonna forgive her.

_

 

_“Look, B, I don’t-, I don’t how to say this, but… I like you. I’m not kidding. I really feel good around you. I like how you make me feel… Secure and confident. When I wake up the first thing I think about is what time of the day I’ll get to see you. I just want to be around you. And I know it might be weird and everything but I just, I just want you…”_

_“Court, I love you.”_

_“What?”_

_“I know this is a bit of a rush, and that you just said that you just like me… but I can’t help it. Kiddo, I think I might be falling for you, so if this is you giving me a chance I’ll be damned if I don’t take it.”_

_“Bianca…”_

_“Look, I know this is weird for you, this is all new to you, and probably I have the worst_ _timing in the history of ever. But, I can’t hold it any longer. I like you too, Courtney, and I want you to know there is no pressure. Let’s take this step by step. I’m not going anywhere, but you have a lot to do before you are ready to commit to anyone. Including yourself.”_

_She has leaned in by now, her lips on a soft smile, eyes locking with yours. When her lips touches yours, you feel like fainting. Damn you stupid, not-so-little heart. She backs a little, breath still ghosting your face._

_“You date if you need to, sleep with anyone else if you want to . Just, keep me_ _posted. If you are really meaning we could do this… Then I’m in. You take your time, work on yourself, and tell me when you are ready. Just, be honest with me.”_

_“B?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Never stop loving me, please?”_

___

 

You can’t leave her alone

She is crying, and shaking, and you dragged her out of the meeting room into your office and pressed a mug into her hands. You plugged the water heater and rummaged a bit on your top drawer to find some tea bags left there too long ago. She is whimpering like a baby, left hand trying to dry away the tears, right hand holding onto the mug for dear life.

You are playing this by ear. Deep down you know this is crazy, and a bit masochist of yours, but you can’t help it. You were never able to see her in trouble and not offer help. Not even now.

The water is ready and you pour some into her mug, dropping two bags of an unknown flavor of tea in it. You pull a chair and sit in front of her, examining her. She is a mess, she’s crumbled. She is gasping a bit for air and you get worried.

“Kiddo, take a breath, please, nice and slow, try to take a deep breath.”

She is looking at you with Bambi eyes, hands holding the mug with white knuckles, chest heaving at her effort of doing as you say.

“Come on, Court, take another breath, follow me, like this.”

You repeat this exercise a couple of times, steps ingrained on your memory from over years of working with Courtney at the same theater company. She is prone to panic attacks and you are one of the few that can calm her down.

Her mouth moves, trying to make a sound, but nothing comes out. She seems very upset about it, and her gasping goes back up.

“Doll, relax, try to keep breathing. Focus on me, for a moment, just try to follow my voice here ok? You are gonna be just fine.”

Your heart is twisted on a very painful manner, and internally you are screaming. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Yes, she needs help, but you don’t feel half this bad for the homeless or the murdered. This is the kind of bad you feel when someone you care about is suffering. And she is not supposed to matter to you. Not anymore.

After fifteen minutes, she has managed to breathe regularly again. She is still crying, but her tears are silently rolling down her apple cheeks. You are quiet, sitting right across from her, a hand on her knee in a soothing manner.

“You feeling better?”

She nods.

“Ok. You need anything?”

“W-why are you doing this?”

You are baffled by her question, and your eyes snap up looking at her face.

“What?”

“Bianca, I lied to you. You left, you left to Canada for a month, and I cheated. We were officially together, and I broke our agreement. I fucked up, badly. Why are you helping me?”

“I- I don’t know…”

You are really taken aback by her words. You really don’t know why.

She smiles, still crying.

“This is what you do, B. Even though I broke your heart on a million pieces, you are there to help me.”

“This is what anyone would have done. You might have need to go to a hospital if I didn’t step in.”

“No Bianca, anyone would have taken me to the hospital, period. You took upon yourself to help me out.”

Uncomfortable silence fills the room.

“You know, I’ve been sad. I’m not supposed to be, given the fact that its was me who cheated, left  and started a relationship with a guy the very next day I was on my own. But, I missed you. I’ve missed having you around. A part of me hoped you would just find out about it and you we would go back to normal, to been just friends. To you supporting me on anything, the friends we used to be.”

You stand up, marching to the door.

“We are not doing this now, Courtney. You can stay here as long as you want, as long as you need to feel better. Just close the door on our way out.”

“I don’t regret it, B. I was lying to you. I couldn’t do it. I couldn't be with you. I didn't love you. But I wanted you there, anyway. I still do.”

“You were not lying.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because if you were, it would be over. If it was over, I could move on.”

You step out of the door before she can answer you. The question about why haven’t you been able to forget her hanging from your lips.

 


End file.
